


Down (with the sickness)

by General_Button



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Button/pseuds/General_Button
Summary: They had only been on Earth for less than a month since the war had ended, and suffice to say Sendak had little to no experience in dealing with the hurdles that Earth’s populace threw at him.





	Down (with the sickness)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyo_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/gifts).



> This is my shendak central valentine's exchange fic for Aurum :) hope you enjoy! Hover over text for a translation (mobile users will have to read the translations at the bottom).

They had only been on Earth for less than a month since the war had ended, and suffice to say Sendak had little to no experience in dealing with the hurdles that Earth’s populace threw at him. He had survived in countless environments, and but in conquering many he had failed to pay much attention to cultures other than his own.

Regret was not something Sendak felt often, but now he felt it keenly.

He picked up a can of what appeared to be “cream of mushroom soup” and then set it back down after reading off the ingredients, lips curling in disgust.

On his home planet, things were kept fresh, and he had never seen such strange items for sale. Most of what he glanced at wouldn’t do for making Shiro’s meal, but he had no idea what _would._ If Shiro was there, Sendak would have questioned him, but since he was incapacitated, he had to take wild guesses as to what might taste at least _similar_ to the dishes that he had made at home.

He walked to another aisle and picked up something green—cabbage, evidently—and gave it a sniff. From the looks of it he had surmised it was a vegetable, but the scent confirmed it immediately. He set it in his cart and then moved on to the other vegetables, hoping that there would be something like queevbani that he could mince for Shiro’s stew.

Shiro was sick, and since he was averse to moving or—according to Shiro—existing, Sendak had taken it upon himself to make him a meal that would reinvigorate him. Unfortunately, it was taking longer than expected. 

Nearly a varga later, and Sendak had finally filled his cart with various ingredients that appeared to fit the bill. Most of it had come from the fresh produce aisle, and what little he could glean from the packaged and canned foods was tossed into the cart reluctantly.

Sendak was just glad that he had brought the spices from his home planet. If he was going to aid Shiro in overcoming his illness, it would take a particular set of galran spices that had lesser galra begging for mercy. It would certainly server to help Shiro with this ‘flu’.

At the register, the cashier seemed unsettled by his presence. Being one of the few aliens in the vicinity, this was not surprising. It was tiresome, however, to have to deal with their stare while he unloaded his cart and then presented Shiro’s card as payment.

The human squinted at it, as if they weren’t sure what to make of the fact that it was Sendak handing it over, and then returned it, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth their suspicion.

“Have a good day,” the human drawled, handing him his bags. Sendak inclined his head, took the bags in one hand, and headed for Shiro’s car.

* * *

The apartment was quiet on his arrival. Nothing had been moved, and the light to their shared bedroom was off, which meant Shiro was still asleep.

 _Good,_ Sendak thought, letting out a relieved sigh.

Shiro had been sick for days, overcome with this flu, but the night before had been the worst. He had much trouble sleeping, complaining about the state of his stomach and the heat of the room constantly (at one point he had sentenced Sendak to the kitchen if he couldn’t ‘get the hell away from him’). His body heat, usually a comfort for Shiro, now only made him sweat. Many times Sendak had woken up to fetch Shiro cool glasses of ice water or moist towels for his head.

He worried initially that Shiro would never find sleep, but early the next morning he drifted off, and Sendak carefully extracted himself so he could go purchase the necessary ingredients for a proper meal that would make him feel renewed.

After sniffing the air and gazing at his still form to ensure that Shiro wasn’t grievously ill, Sendak walked into the kitchen with his spoils and began preparations. The meat was from the nearest deli, and although it was nothing compared to the kind of meat he could have bought within the empire, it would still do.

He began with the vegetables, chopping them into bite-sized pieces that would presumably melt or soften in the stew. The meat he shaved of most of its fat, leaving enough to cook down in the broth without saturating it with its taste. Assuming this brand of meat was like the ones at home, too much fat would render the dish inedible.

Once preparations were finished, he poured the vegetables and the broth in the slow-cooker and seasoned it liberally. He fiddled with the settings for some time, trying to recall exactly what letters represented what meaning, but eventually he had it all set to be cooked.

Sendak was so focused on mealprep that he missed the soft groan that came from the other room, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing. He only realized Shiro was awake when he became aware of his scent flooding the room.

“Shiro.” Sendak turned to face him, and had to hold back a remark at the endearing way that Shiro was wrapped up in his comforter, blinking blearily at the kitchen’s bright lights. “You should be resting.”

“I’m too sick to sleep,” Shiro said. He sniffled, and then wiped the arm of his shirt across his nose. It was a revolting sight, but Shiro had gone through so many tissues that he had given up for the most part, and Sendak could not blame him.

Shiro shivered and pulled his blanket tighter around himself.

“I was hot before, but now I’m cold,” he said. Then he sneezed.

Sendak observed the way he shifted on his feet unsteadily. His _bare_ feet. Shiro’s slippers were in one of the boxes they had yet to unpack after coming to Earth, so Sendak made a mental note to find them for him and walked over, pulling the blanket tighter before he embraced Shiro, encouraging him to lay his head over Sendak’s chest fur.

Shiro sighed blissfully, rubbing his face into the soft fur. Sendak had recently cleaned it, and a part of him was remiss at seeing it stained with Shiro’s never-ending supply of mucus; however, getting fluids stuck in his fur was nothing compared to the suffering that Shiro was going through. Sendak had only been sick once, and he had nearly died. He had no idea how Shiro was still standing.

“Thanks,” Shiro slurred. “Did you comb your fur? Feels so soft today.”

“Yes,” Sendak answered, stroking the back of his head slowly. He felt unreasonably warm, but his shoulders were trembling. “Come, sit down. I was just preparing your—” he glanced at the time, “—lunch.”

Shiro sat down at the kitchen table, curling one leg up to his chest. Then he glanced over at the crockpot like he didn’t understand what he was seeing. “’M not really hungry.”

“You will eat,” Sendak declared, his tone remaining gentle, but firm. “It will make you feel better. It is an old recipe.”

“A…galra recipe?” Shiro got up from the chair, presumably to peek at the contents, but Sendak pushed at his shoulders and sat him back down. He cupped Shiro’s head with one hand, bending down so he could kiss his heated forehead. “You sure it’s safe for me to eat?”

“I’ve made do with your Earth ingredients, so nothing can hurt you. And you’ve tasted the spices I use before.”

“Yeah, they were…different,” Shiro said slowly. It was the tone he used when he didn’t want to admit he disliked something.

“Don’t worry yourself over it. Rest. I will bring you a glass of water.”

“Tea would be great, actually.”

Sendak nodded, leaving Shiro to lean against the back of his chair while he fetched him a mug and the electric kettle.

‘Tea’, as it was named on Earth, was something Sendak was familiar with. It was a part of countless cultures, and he enjoyed it in its various forms. During winters tea was especially pleasing, but Earth was in the middle of its summer, making it low on Sendak’s list.

Once the water was boiled and distributed, Sendak scooped a healthy amount of leaves from Shiro’s favorite bag and then set it inside the strainer to flavor Shiro’s tea. Too often Shiro was impatient to wait long; Sendak valued letting the flavors seep into the water.

“Ugh,” Shiro groaned. There was a _thunk_ as his head landed on the table. “I hate being sick. It’s the worst. I was supposed to give a speech today.”

“Was it not a holo-speech?” Sendak asked. He took out the honey from the cupboard and uncapped it, pouring a few spoonfuls into the water.

“Real speech,” Shiro replied. “For new recruits. But I guess my body’s not used to Earth and all its germs.”

“I have only contracted something like the flu once,” Sendak said, sitting down next to Shiro. He set the mug of tea near Shiro’s head, for whenever he wanted to drink it, and then set his hands in his lap. “I nearly died. Rarely do galra get sick, and when we do, it is disastrous for our health.”

Shiro snorted, of all things, moving his gaze so it was resting somewhere around Sendak’s chin. “On Earth, we get sick all the time. It’s a part of being healthy. I’m just glad you can’t contract our viruses. You’re—” he paused to yawn, his jaw stretching wide, “—you’re like a cat that way.”

“So you’ve said,” Sendak drawled. He’d been compared to the primitive feline enough times to find it irritating. “I am nothing like your Earth cat.”

“Meow.” Shiro closed his eyes. “Here, kitty kitty.”

“You’re delirious.” Sendak sniffed at Shiro’s hair. “Perhaps you should drink your tea.”

Shiro groaned, then slowly lifted his arms until he was able to bring them over the table and around his mug. He sighed, wiggling his fingers as the warmth began to seep in.

“Thank you. This should help me a little. Did you put honey in it?”

“Enough.”

“So not enough,” Shiro teased. He blew on the surface and then took a tentative sip. Sendak could tell it was too hot still, and so could Shiro from the way his mouth screwed in pain.

“What is it you say?” Sendak asked. “Ah, yes. ‘Patience yields focus.’”

“I—” Shiro paused to hiccup, “—hate that I ever told you that. Don’t use it against me.”

“Once you learn patience, perhaps.”

Shiro glared at him half-heartedly. “Have you ever had a pizza roll?”

“No. You know I have not.”

“Well, if you had, you would know that humans by and large are an impatient species. You don’t wait for a pizza roll to cool; it’s part of the experience.”

He was still delirious, clearly.

Sendak reached over and grabbed Shiro’s mug, pulling it away from his hands before he could protest.

“Hey!” Shiro pouted, reaching forward. “That’s mine. Give it back. It has honey in it.”

Sendak lifted the mug out of Shiro’s reach, and when he leaned all the way over the table, Sendak stood. He assumed that would be the end of things, but Shiro follower him, standing with an abruptness that made him stumble almost immediately.

Sendak hurried to set down the tea so he could help right him, pulling Shiro into his embrace.

“Be careful,” he said, lowering his voice when Shiro frowned. The night before he had complained about the level of Sendak’s voice, shushing him whenever he spoke too loudly.

“I’m okay,” Shiro said. His vicelike grip on Sendak’s arm said otherwise. “Just need to sit down again. For a while. With my tea,” he added, the edge of his lips curling up.

“I have a better idea.” Sendak telegraphed his movements, making his intentions clear as he hooked one arm around Shiro’s waist and the other under his legs and then lifted him, comforter and all.

“Let me guess, back to bed?” Shiro said, sounding resigned. “I’m tired of lying in bed.”

Sendak jerked his head towards the open doorway. “Living room.”

He began walking immediately, trying not to enjoy the way that Shiro helplessly clung to him, as if Sendak would drop him when he weighed very little, even with the heavy comforter wrapped around him.

The couch was clear upon their arrival—Sendak had removed the pillows earlier that morning when he was searching for the remote to watch the news—and so after setting Shiro down, he grabbed one of the pillows and set it behind his head.

“Actually,” Shiro interrupted, stopping him with his hand, “could you get the pillow from my room?” He paused. “Sorry. You’re doing so much for me.”

“Hardly,” Sendak replied. He bent down and kissed Shiro’s forehead, then left a trail of lingering pecks along his cheek and jawline. “I will retrieve your pillow. And your tea.”

The gratitude in Shiro’s eyes made Sendak’s heart fill with warmth. He left before he could do something ridiculous like declare his undying love for Shiro and went to find his pillow. It wasn’t anywhere on the bed, and after some searching Sendak found it lying halfway underneath, having fallen at some point—likely when Shiro dragged himself out of bed with the comforter attached.

By the time he returned to the couch, Shiro was already curled up into a ball, staring blankly at the lit television screen.

“HGTV?” Sendak said doubtfully. “I was under the impression you disliked this channel.”

“It’s all that’s on right now.” Shiro laid his palm across his forehead, and Sendak made a note to get him a cool towel. “I don’t _hate_ it. It’s a little boring sometimes, but they make the houses look really nice.”

Sendak hummed, gazing at the monitor to judge their workmanship for himself. It was difficult to tell when they kept switching over to the couple blathering on about what their plans were for the house.

“Gimme.”

Sendak glanced down at where Shiro’s hands were reaching, and realized he was still holding onto his pillow. He walked over and set it behind Shiro’s head, fluffing it the way that Shiro preferred.

“Thanks,” Shiro said, smiling up at him sweetly. Sendak kissed him on impulse.

Rare was it that he could contain himself around Shiro. He was the only thing in his life that could affect him to such degrees. With Shiro around, he felt so _weak,_ but in a way that he would not change for the universe.

“You’re going to sit with me, right?” Shiro asked, when Sendak began to walk away.

Sendak stilled. He _hated_ HGTV.

“Yes,” he replied, forcing the weariness out of his tone. He went and found Shiro’s tea—which had cooled considerably—and then sat down next to Shiro on the couch after handing it to him.

They sat for a while, enjoying (Shiro enjoyed while Sendak attempted to keep his comments to himself) whatever ‘flip’ show was on. Sendak did manage for a while, but there were times when he could not completely contain his disdain.

“The bathroom is twice the size of their old one. Why does he continue to complain?”

“Because it’s a reality TV show. They need the drama.”

“And yet, I could not be less entertained.”

“You can leave if you’re not having any fun,” Shiro quipped. Sendak made no move to get up, and he didn’t plan to, especially now that Shiro had moved his legs onto Sendak’s lap. He stroked his foot absently, smoothing his palm over the skin while Shiro stared at the TV. Eventually Shiro began wiggling it, implying he wanted one of Sendak’s famous ‘foot massages’. He obliged, avoiding the parts that Shiro claimed were ticklish, eventually moving on to his ankle and calf.

“Mm,” Shiro hummed. “You know what I’d like?”

“A back massage,” Sendak hazarded.

Without answering, Shiro sat up, wrenching his feet out of Sendak's grip and off his lap, and put his pillow in its place. Sendak quickly adjusted his posture so Shiro would have more room, waiting until his head was resting in Sendak's lap before he began to card his fingers through his hair, careful of his claws.

“Thanks,” Shiro murmured, slowly relaxing until he was leaning most of his weight into Sendak’s thigh. Sendak continued to stroke and pet while Shiro commentated on the show, but eventually Shiro slowed, and then went silent, either because the act of fixing houses just to sell them to a random couple was that soothing, or he’d fallen asleep.

Either way, Sendak did not mind. 

He stayed in place for another hour, both because the slow-cooker needed time to cook, and he liked being close with Shiro. He enjoyed having him at his side, his breaths soft and warm against his fur.

He bent forward to look down at Shiro’s face. His eyes were closed, and his shallow breaths had deepened as sleep claimed him.

Leaning further, he pressed his lips to Shiro’s forehead, ensuring he still slept before speaking.

 _“de luste da,”_ he murmured, so quiet he could barely hear himself. _“da corre del akaana.”_

It was much easier to speak in his own language, where the words made sense and could convey how he truly felt. Translations only provided so much, and would that he could, he would never use a translator and speak to Shiro only in his home tongue.

At some point, his eye had slipped closed, and when he opened it again, Shiro was staring at him with such naked affection that the skin under his fur began to heat.

 _“de luste da,”_   Shiro repeated, near-perfectly accented, shocking Sendak to his core. He rose slowly, still speaking, bringing both hands up to cup Sendak’s cheeks. _“de n’be vona ot ath belok del vesh.”_

Sendak’s heart felt unsteady. He tried not to breathe, and only succeeded in a helpless gasp when Shiro kissed him.

Shiro had turned off his translator and he had spoken _Galran._ In unsteady and stilted words, but they were there.

“Where…did you learn,” Sendak managed, grabbing his face so he could kiss him fiercely. He barely gave Shiro room to breathe, let alone speak, but he could hardly contain himself.

Finally, when Shiro was pushing him away, choking on his own laughter, breath run ragged, he grinned at Sendak, his face flush with victory.

“Kolivan offered to teach me. Well, I asked. I wanted to know how to speak Galran because it’s obviously important to you, and I just wanted to be a part of that.”

“You continue to astound me,” Sendak said. His voice was low with heat and affection. “Were you not ill, I would show you just how much I appreciate what you’ve done. After I kill Kolivan for teaching for before I could.”

Shiro laughed. “I knew you’d say that. Don’t worry; I still have a lot to learn.”

He shifted on Sendak’s lap, sliding next to him so he could lay his head on Sendak’s shoulder.

“You can teach me the rest. Mostly I’ve been focusing on phrases like that so I could surprise you. I can barely string together a sentence.” Shiro put his hand on Sendak’s thigh and squeezed. “I was going to wait, but you were being so sweet, and I just knew I had to.”

Shiro was a wonder. Truly, he could not have chosen better in taking him as his mate. He turned to gaze at Shiro, who smiled at him in that way humans did when they were embarrassed.

Sendak followed impulse and kissed him again, and then again, his kisses slow and even, opening Shiro’s mouth to his touch. He kissed Shiro for as long as he would allow, deeply, with all the former passion he could muster. Shiro was breathless by the time he pulled away, the flush on his face even darker than before.

“Wish I didn’t feel like shit,” he said lowly. “I could do that all day.”

Sendak opened his mouth to reply, and that was when the timer for the slow cooker beeped.

“Food time?” Shiro asked, sounding curious.

Sendak nodded. He stood, careful depositing Shiro on the sofa before he walked into the kitchen and lifted the latch to peek inside.

At first glance, it appeared as he remembered from the color alone. He tasted the dish for quality assurance, and once he was certain it was acceptable, he poured a generous helping into a bowl and brought it into the living room.

“Where would you like to eat?”

Shiro bit his lip contemplatively.

“Put it in on the tray?”

Sendak set Shiro’s bowl in front of him on the tray usually reserved for popcorn or the television remotes. Then he waited.

“Are you going to eat, too?” Shiro asked, after a long moment. He raised a brow. “Or are you just going to stare?”

“I want to know how it tastes.”

Shiro looked down at his meal, so far untouched. It was classically colored because of the spices Sendak had used. Blue was a particularly appealing part of the dishes from home.

“This looks…really nice. Thanks.” Shiro was lying, but Sendak had seen this same hesitation before. He knew what Shiro liked.

“Try it,” he grunted.

“I will.” Shiro swirled his spoon around. “But maybe you should try it first.”

“I _did.”_ Sendak barely refrained from rolling his eye and sat next to Shiro. After taking the spoon from him, he drew it across the surface of the broth, collecting vegetables and meat, and then held it up for Shiro. “Open your mouth.”

Shiro looked between the spoon and Sendak, and then slowly parted his lips. Sendak held his hand under Shiro’s chin so none of the broth would escape, and then pulled the utensil away when Shiro had swallowed it all.

Shiro’s eyes lit up almost instantly. He hummed in delight, swallowing the warm broth quickly so he could have another bite. Sendak fed it to him, as he did the next, and he was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Shiro didn’t seem to mind if the eager way he leaned into each spoonful was any indication.

“That’s actually good,” he said, closing his eyes in between bites. In minutes, the bowl was empty, and Shiro leaned back, patting his belly. “I feel so warm now. I didn’t know that spice could taste like that. You used this one before?”

“In combination with others, it changes. It is pleasing. And it will help with your congestion.”

“I think the hot food did that enough.”

“You haven’t felt it yet. The aftertaste may take a few dobashes.”

“I think I’d know if I felt—" Shiro stopped. Sendak watched as his face slowly began to color red. “Wow, okay, that _is_ hot.” Shiro pulled at his collar. “Haha. Wow.” The red on his cheeks darkened and spread to his neck. “Oh my god. Oh my _god,_ that’s so hot!”

He started waving frantically at his mouth, what Sendak thought was an overreaction, and began panting. It was an endearing display, although hardly necessary. The heat typically lasted under thirty ticks.

“Water, I need _water.”_ Sendak made no move to get up. “ _Sendak!”_

“Give it a moment and it will pass,” he said. Shiro glared at him, about to argue, when he visibly paused, opening his mouth slowly.

“That’s…okay, that's weird. It’s just gone.”

“As I said,” Sendak drawled, “give it a moment and it will dissipate.”

“Uh huh. You, mister, need to warn me next time my mouth will catch fire,” Shiro grumbled, rubbing at the side of his neck. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, but he had already begun sniffling. His congestion would lesson considerably: the dish was a success.

“Thank you, though,” Shiro said, after a beat of silence. He reached for the tissues behind Sendak, who took it upon himself to pluck a number from the box to hand to him. “This has all been very sweet. I know you took off work to take care of me.” 

“The Blade members under my command understand. One’s mate falling sick is nothing to take lightly. Many times it has resulted in death. Some were already prepared with grief.” Sendak spoke as if he was not affected, but he recalled how his unit had looked at him when they heard the news, and he could not control his expression in time.

“You were really that worried?” he asked, eyes gone soft. Sendak nodded, but remained silent. “I told you; on Earth, we don’t die from being sick. At least not from the flu, as long as there’s treatment. I didn’t mean to have you so worried.”

“Rarely do we get sick,” Sendak repeated, taking Shiro’s hand. “So I am unaccustomed to this. But I do understand how your people differ.” He huffed out a short sigh, irritated with himself for feeling so foolish. “I am relieved you enjoyed the food.”

“I did. It’s different, but I like different.” Shiro smiled. “I like you.”

Sendak leaned over to kiss the top of Shiro’s forehead, but Shiro guided his head down and met him in a satisfying kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to end things, I'm so sorry. 
> 
> The language I used I borrowed from [this post](http://voltronrising.tumblr.com/post/152315005470/galran-language-part-two-pronouns-and-regular). I made up a few words that weren't available but it's a nice and handy start! And if you haven't yet, please [join our shendak server](https://discord.gg/xsTwcYQ%22) to join in on the fun!!!
> 
> de luste da - I love you  
> da corre del akaana - you command my heart  
> de n’be vona ot ath belok del vesh - I cannot count how you have changed my life and become my home


End file.
